


No Fear Cavalier

by Isis



Category: Last Night (1998), Slings & Arrows
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-19
Updated: 2007-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/pseuds/Isis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only reason he'd even suggested it to Patrick (other than, who else was he going to get at this point?) was that Patrick reminded him of this guy he'd met once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Fear Cavalier

Craig watched Patrick leave with mingled disappointment and relief. Disappointment because, hey, end of the world coming up, and that was one thing he wasn't going to get to cross off his list. Relief, because doing it with Patrick would have been totally fucking weird.

The only reason he'd even suggested it to Patrick (other than, who else was he going to get at this point?) was that Patrick reminded him of this guy he'd met once. Well, really it was the other way around: he'd caught sight of Patrick on the street and tapped his shoulder, and the guy turned, and it wasn't Patrick after all.

He sure looked like him, though, except his hair was messier and he had these really gay eyeglasses on, and under the black leather jacket Craig'd seen from the back he wore a red satin shirt with a green scarf around his neck, which Craig would bet Patrick would not be caught dead in.

(Heh. They'd all be caught dead in whatever, soon enough.)

Craig had said sorry, I thought you were someone I knew, and the guy had wheeled around and gotten right up in Craig's personal space. Long fingers grabbed his chin.

"Excellent bone structure. And your voice isn't execrably bad. Can you project?"

"What the—" Craig started, but it didn't matter, the guy was nodding, walking around him like he was a _horse_ he was thinking of buying. "Juror number six, I think."

"I'm pretty sure this isn't how jury duty works," Craig said, taking a step back.

The guy rolled his eyes. "It's a _play_ , you cultural illiterate. _Twelve Angry Men_."

"I'm not a fucking actor."

"We are _all_ fucking actors," said the guy, reaching into his (red satin) pocket and pulling out a card. "Call me if you're interested." He pressed the card into Craig's hand, his fingers sliding against Craig's for a moment longer than strictly necessary, and his voice dropped. "Or call me if you're _interested_."

"Yeah, whatever," said Craig, and he must have looked at the card, read the name, but he couldn't remember it now. Darren something. He'd watched the messy hair and black leather jacket saunter down the road, then crumpled the card and tossed it into the gutter.

Now he thought it was too bad he hadn't kept it. Darren would have been up for it, he was sure. But there were still a couple dozen sex acts he hadn't done yet; no way could he get through all of them tonight, but even without the homo thing, there were still a lot of possibilities. He went back into his kitchen and looked at the Master Plan.

Okay, he didn't have Patrick and he didn't have Darren, but that didn't mean he had to sit in his apartment by himself. Not tonight. He ran his finger down the list, then grabbed his address book and made a phone call. There was still time. He was going to make the best of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Title, of course, from REM's "End of the world as we know it."


End file.
